Sea Shanties and the Tempest
by I am Best
Summary: The world is big and strange, and not even demons know all there is to know about it. When all this strangeness comes to the Phantomhive manor, Sebastian must turn to the only thing stranger than corpses standing on the stoop: one Grell Sutcliff. And she is only too glad to help, because Grell Sutcliff makes bad decisions.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Thanks to Black Blood of the Red Rose for being my beta for this piece!

* * *

"Hello, Grell."

Gooseflesh prickled up Grell's arms. The way he said her name, it tickled and ached all at the same time. She spun around, red coat, red hair in a whirl, and slung her scythe up on her shoulder. Pose, pout, give him the elevator eyes. Looking good as ever, all human skin and wine-red eyes. Grell didn't see his little master anywhere.

"Bassy," she said, just as calmly, belying her rather visceral reaction to just his sinful voice. "What brings you to my little alley?"

"I," he paused, those long-lashed lids fluttered closed, and Sebastian took a moment to compose himself. "I need your assistance."

"Oh?" she asked, a lilt of disbelief coloring the sound. Grell could see the pain admitting that brought, but wasn't about to rub it in his face lest she scare him off. If she weren't so considerate towards demons, he probably wouldn't have even approached. "You need a reaper's help, you mean. Not mine."

"Yes."

Grell smiled, revealing her pearly shark teeth. She liked an honest man, especially an honest man who was bad, and there were none badder than Sebastian. She stepped lightly to the body she'd been sent to reap, some poor man who died of malnutrition, nameless to everyone but her. With a flick of her scythe his record spilled out, and Grell felt Sebastian move closer behind her. They watched the man's wretched life play out in amiable silence, then Grell cut through the record, and pulled out her list. Com-ple-ted. And done for the day.

She'd already forgotten who he was by the time she turned again to Sebastian. "You're lucky, this was my last one."

"I know."

"I - eh?" Grell frowned as she put away her list. "How'd you know? Was it Ronnie? It was Ronnie, wasn't it? He's such a blab."

"It wasn't Mr Knox. I've simply been debating this for some time now."

"Enough to learn my schedule? Are you stalking me, Bassy? I mean, not that I'm angry - quite the opposite, in fact - but a girl's got to have some secrets."

The demon gave a belabored sigh as Grell inched closer and closer, finally catching onto his arm. "I could not hope to nor want to ever understand you, Grell. Your secrets are safe."

She blew a raspberry at him and let him go. "Well, out with it then. What do you want?"

Instead of his neutral expression, which sat somewhere between amused and disdainful most days, Sebastian suddenly looked... shifty. Grell made a noise of interest as the demon surveyed their surroundings as though ears and eyes were everywhere. Curiouser and curiouser. "Not here. You need to come to the manor."

"I can come by now. We don't clock out or anything if we're in the field. Just on, or off, whenever the last record's cut. I don't even have overtime today, because I've been good. But," Grell added lasciviously, "I don't mind being bad if it's with you."

"No," he said immediately, reflexively. "If we're to go to the manor now, I need you to change. You're much too... " He trailed off, as though trying to think of something that wasn't an insult now that Grell had agreed to help him. "Too much for the servants," Sebastian settled on.

"Like change my jacket?" Grell asked, excitement a little deflated. She knew what he meant, but hoped it wasn't so. Her human disguise was so _dull_ and _male._ "I could just stay invisible, you know."

"And have me talking to myself? If we're to go now, we'll invariably run into the servants. I would rather they know you're there than question what I'm doing."

Grell pouted and fluttered her lash, toying morosely with her bright red hair like a dejected child.

At Sebastian's flat expression, Grell gave up with a huff and combed her hair to a browner shade. Her curiosity often got the better of her, and this was a small price to pay to have Sebastian in her debt. Teeth flattened, eyes dimmed, contours shifted minutely. Grell always felt weaker, more exposed, like this. Though the suppressing of her reaper abilities actually made her less noticeable, it meant she was also less able to notice things like, say, another reaper five feet in front of her.

The human disguise slipped over her like a second skin, just a little dusty from disuse. It was one she was familiar with, even before Madame Red, but that didn't mean she had to like it. Grell couldn't do much about her shoes or glasses on such short notice. "Fine, happy?"

Sebastian just said, "Let's go," and held out his hand. When Grell slipped hers into his with a somewhat confused quirk of her eyebrow, he pulled her into a bridal hold. She flailed and almost toppled to the ground.

"What! What are you doing, you bastard!" Grell heard a solid exhalation as she caught Sebastian in the chest with her elbow. Nonetheless, he managed to corral her and, once Grell realized he was holding her as opposed to attacking her, she stilled to an unnatural degree. This - this was weird. She didn't know how to react.

"You changed your tone quickly. You're more human like this, correct?" At Grell's red-flushed nod, he shifted her to a more comfortable hold. "If we go at your pace, I don't trust you to not get distracted by shiny pennies or something."

"I'm more a crossbill than a magpie, don't you think?" Grell managed to counter weakly. This was probably just instinctual for Sebastian, and was nothing more than a means to an end. She knew, intellectually, not to read too much into any of his actions. It did do things to her stomach, though.

"You're certainly some kind of bird," Sebastian muttered as he readjusted Grell. Then they were off. Grell almost missed the muttered 'vulture' as she watched the buildings of London town fade to forests and fields. If it weren't for the fact that he'd drop her and she'd probably roll all the way to the manor on sheer momentum, she would have hit him for that.

He dropped her regardless as soon as they were safely in the garden, hidden behind some manicured topiaries, and walked over to a bench while Grell righted herself. The flowers were in full bloom, perfume light on the afternoon breezes, and if not that she'd just been manhandled, she would have been more than pleased by the scene Sebastian and the verdant backdrop painted.

"That was uncalled for," she muttered without heat as she followed behind him, nonetheless admiring the view presented while he had his back to her. Sebastian directed her to sit. It was odd, having him just stand there, no knives or snide remarks at the ready, but Grell could handle odd. She crossed her legs and looked up at him. "So. What do you need?"

"I do not belong on this plane," Sebastian began, staring off into some middle distance and standing very, very still. Grell probably ought to have felt insulted that just the act of talking to her caused so much discomfort, but she'd learned to take what she got. "And though I've been here many times, served masters all over, I don't know the intricacies of this world."

"And?" she prompted when he fell silent.

"And I don't know what to make of recent events." Admitting that he was at a loss seemed to hurt to him than getting gutted by a scythe.

Grell made an impressed noise. Something confusing Sebastian was something she'd like to see. He really was titillating her with all this vagueness, but she could only supply so much with her imagination. "You're going to have to be a wee bit less evasive, Bassy, if you want my help."

"Just -" he was interrupted by a commotion from the house. Grell enjoyed how the tension in his jaw hardened its shape, especially when it wasn't there because of her. It looked like he was swallowing back a sigh. "Just wait here."

"I'll wait forever for you, dear Bassy," Grell said with a blown kiss. She cackled at his look of disgust before he brushed past her to try and salvage whatever situation was occurring in the manor itself.

That left Grell to her own devices, something William had learnt long ago to never allow. Oh, but if she did something bad, then Bassy might tattle. He didn't actually like her, and she wasn't sure where she stood on him, but she liked having her fun and her freedom. If she got in trouble, especially with a demon (again, and again), she'd be back on desk duty for years. Grell took a deep breath and straightened, sitting primly on the edge of the stone bench.

Be proper. Ladies didn't get distracted by how absolutely awful and dull it was just waiting. And it was. So, so dull, like her current self. Grell began twining random locks of her ugly hair into loose braids for something to do, before unraveling them to repeat the process. Good lord, was he taking his time.

She abandoned her braiding when it proved to be truly unengaging, and hopped to her feet to prowl instead among the flowerbeds, intent on identifying them in all their tightly contained glory. Roses, fox gloves, cornflowers festooned with butterflies. Gardens were pretty, but how was a girl supposed to keep herself occupied with flowers? Grell crouched down to study a spiderweb strung like spun silver between two stems, then plucked a butterfly from one of the flowers. With an artist's care, she placed it in the spider's web. The little spider scrambled around its web to contain the sudden, panicking meal. Grell smiled at having made someone's day.

"I don't think you're allowed to be here, ma'am," a voice dragged out questioningly above Grell. She looked up. Blond hair, straw hat, big, blue eyes. Finny stood on the other side of the flowerbed, shifting from one foot to another, looking as unsure about his statement as he sounded. Grell hadn't seen him in ages, not since Madame Red. Her expression turned a little wistful at the thought of Anne, but she quickly shook it off.

She'd have to start acting, now, if Sebastian wanted her to be discrete. Humble, so slouch a little, curve the shoulders, twitch and stutter. That was how she'd met the servants before, and if she had to wear the disguise, that's how she'd meet them again. Let Sebastian have yet another incompetent servant on his hands.

"Grell? Sorry, from here you looked - " Finny fumbled to explain himself, but Grell held up her hand to cut him off as she straightened.

"It - it's okay, Finny. It's the hair, I know." She pulled it back, shaking free the last of the braids, but didn't have anything to tie it up, so just twisted it a few times and let it drape loosely over her shoulder. Her jacket and shoes didn't help her look very masculine, either, but she couldn't let it show just how pleased she was by the mistake. "How have you and the others been?"

"Fine, fine. What are you doing here? After, well," he cut himself off, though the memory of Madame Red's rather unfortunate demise hung between them. Grell doubted the servants were privy to the full extend of her death, or else she wouldn't just be in disguise. She'd be having to defend herself, if they thought she was a threat to Ciel.

"Sebastian actually asked me to come." Grell shared the befuddled look Finny adopted and shrugged. "I don't know what to make of it, either. He's being very mysterious."

"I'm sure he had a reason." Finny, ever trusting, didn't question any further.

"Strangest thing," Grell said, sitting again. Finny settled in next to her. She had to get back into character, and Finny was polite enough to not say if she acted too oddly, assuming he noticed at all. "He just showed up while I was working and told me to come out here as soon as possible. Said he needed my help with something."

Finny looked to the house, then back to Grell. "Begging pardon, but what would _you_ be able to help _him_ with?"

Grell sighed, not liking but understanding his confusion. She really had been useless as a butler, and so far as they knew she didn't have any redeemable qualities or skills. Though she still didn't know why she was here, she could make something up. "Something of a research nature, I believe. Like I said, he's being very mysterious."

"If you could wait five minutes without distracting the servants, I would tell you," Sebastian cut in. Both Finny and Grell yelped, Grell going so far as to hide behind the smaller boy when they leapt from the bench.

"Ah! Right, right! Sorry," she said, bowing profusely as Finny likewise apologized.

Sebastian dismissed Finny, but before the gardener got too far, he whirled around and yelled back, "I like your glasses, Grell!"

Grell automatically pushed them up, tiny skull chain clinking lightly. She supposed they were a little strange, even in combination with the rest of her very red clothing. "Thank you, dear!" She called back, forgetting for a moment that pet names weren't supposed to be something she did, now. Finny ran over to the fountain, where Grell assumed he'd been heading before, and with a frantic energy began to pull up weeds. Grell's nose scrunched as she saw a giant slab paver get pulled up, too.

"So," she continued, looking up at Sebastian with a grin highly unsuited to her current face. She'd forgotten how adorably awkward Finny was, and deigned not to mention that he wouldn't have been distracted if she'd been invisible. "What did you want?"


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to Black Blood of the Red Rose for being my beta for this piece! All mistakes hereafter are my own. Also, this takes place in some limbo between the anime and the manga, which is more apparent in this chapter.

* * *

Sebastian gestured around them at the carefully tended hedges and flowers, interspersed with stonework. "Creatures have been appearing on my lord's property. I've been careful to keep the servants unaware of their presence for the most part, though they encountered the creatures first, at this location."

His attention turned back to Grell, who was staring moonily up at him instead of the surroundings. At the pointed clearing of his throat, she leapt up. "Oh, right! I'll just have a look, shall I?"

"Please do."

Grell prowled around like she knew what she was doing. All she saw was grass, rocks, and moss.

"Why don't you want them knowing? Isn't it their job to protect the brat?" she asked while she looked for any clue that Sebastian would have somehow missed. Unsurprisingly, she wasn't finding anything.

"I would rather they not know about the supernatural," he said neutrally, following behind her and occasionally pointing to whereabout a creature had been standing.

Grell made a nondescript sound of understanding. If ever they found out what Sebastian was, and what he'd eventually do to Ciel, they would turn on him like wolves. Grell seriously doubted they'd hurt him, but it was easier to keep them in the dark than find new servants. "Right now I believe they've rationalized the creatures as escaped lunatics."

"So, human-shaped. That's a start."

"The ones I've encountered have been, yes, but wet, with skin sloughing, and bodies distended. It was as though they were corpses left in water. There were no identifiable clothing or markings on them."

Grell rifled through her pockets. She came up with much-abused paper tucked in-between the pages of her death list book and a pen - ink inside with a little ball as the nib, wouldn't exist in this realm commercially for another fifty to hundred years - and began to jot down notes.

Sebastian glanced disdainfully at the messy scrawl then turned his gaze to some middle distance once she'd caught up. "According to Bard, they were just standing here, facing the manor."

"How many?"

"Five. Thus far every appearance has had five creatures. Bard tried to talk to them, but they were entirely unresponsive. Even when hit they did nothing, and were easily dispatched."

"That's unusual," Grell murmured to herself, then spoke up so Sebastian knew she did have something to contribute. "Very few things just... die. They should put up a fight, at least. Even those dolls the Undertaker made - they were already dead, but fought tooth and nail."

"I had initially believed them to be something of his doing, but I'm unable to access the cinematic records, and wasn't going to risk contact with their souls, in case they were tainted."

Grell wrote one final note - have souls - then put the cap back on her pen and clipped it to her vest. "I can't say anything for sure," she admitted, "But let me see the other locations."

Sebastian led her from place to place, forest, gardens, ruins. More acreage than a single child and five servants could ever need or maintain without supernatural aid. Every time he described the same encounters, except Sebastian simply killed and removed the bodies, or tested them to see if they would respond to more demonic interaction while the other servants were asleep or across the estate. They never did. They never even uttered a sound or twitched a muscle as they were killed. He couldn't even say where they were coming from or when they arrived, and the annoyance at his own inability to discern anything was clear in his voice.

Grell liked listening to him talk regardless, and happily trailed along wherever he led just to hear his dulcet tones. She even only rarely tripped over her own feet, muscles expecting the strong, confident movements of the reaper and only getting the hesitant shuffling of the human. At least it was something she could play off as part of her disguise, and not something she'd had to incorporate into it by necessity.

As they did the tour of the estate, Grell and Sebastian both saw the servants peeking around ornamental pillars or out of bushes, first just Finny, then Mey-Rin, then Bard all trying to and failing to spy undetected. Another person, one she didn't recognize but who she assumed was another servant, joined them. She couldn't quite tell from this distance, but he looked a little familiar, though Grell had no idea where she would have seen him from. Grell waved cheerfully at the cluster, causing everyone but the new servant to duck away like that would retroactively keep her from spotting them. She saw Mey-Rin's arm pop back up to pull him down too.

Sebastian seemed to accept this as a matter of course and ignored them. Feeling somewhat mischievous, Grell 'stumbled' and caught herself on Sebastian's arm. One hand found his, then the other followed, and soon she was twined around said arm like ivy, head resting on his shoulder. To his credit, Sebastian seemed to accept this as a matter of course, as well, and simply sighed and squeezed Grell's fingers tight enough that she heard her joints crack.

"Where'd you put the bodies?" she asked, voice a murmur as she noticed two blond, one auburn, and a snake's head nearby. She wasn't sure what to make of that last one, but if she got her way and managed to score an invitation to return, she'd have time enough to work it out.

"I'll show you," Sebastian said just as quietly, freeing his arm to put it around her shoulder and steer her away from the others. She turned her attention to him and didn't bother to hide the blush at the close contact. Something that sat so close to reciprocation was unheard of for her. _Demon_ , she reminded herself. _User._ It meant nothing.

Sooner than she'd like, their little trek was over and Sebastian had released her and stepped away.

They were in the forest, sun-dappled with afternoon light, foliage thick and dark, far enough in to be unobserved. Grell pouted at the ruined moment, but if she wanted to return without a fight, she had work to be done. Placing her hands resolutely on her hips, she looked around. It was a pretty bit of forest, but there weren't any bodies. "Well?"

Sebastian shrugged. "I deposit them here. They disappear. I've attempted to observe what happens, but have to date been unsuccessful."

"Of course they do. It would have been much too easy, elsewise." Grell scuffed at some leaves as though that would reveal anything, and only found squishy layers of older leaves and slugs. "How's not being one hell of a butler treating you?"

"Watching corpses vanish has little to do with a butler's aesthetic. I am still one hell of a butler - " he pulled out his pocket watch, checked it, then put it away. "In fact, my young master will be needing his afternoon snack, soon."

Grell laughed at his excuse, then became all business. She did, after all, want to be invited back. Sebastian wasn't half-bad when they weren't at odds, and both seemed to be trying their best to not annoy the other too much. A girl could get used to this treatment, but she had something in mind that she knew Sebastian wasn't going to like.

"I have some ideas, but want to see what I can find in the archives before I tell you anything." Even outside of the fact that this meant she could spend more time with Sebastian, Grell was intrigued by what was happening here. If nothing else, she knew it was unusual, and definitely more interesting than paperwork and humdrum harvesting.

"Go, then. And only return when you have answers."

"Fine, fine." Grell huffed and waved her hand dismissively, also waving away her human guise in the process. It came and went so easily on the surface, but underneath it was like being able to breath again after being smothered. Ironic, given how she only breathed in her human form. Now that she was in her regular body, though, it was safe to broach the subject of payment. "I'll get your answers, then I get something in return."

The silence that fell between them was heavy enough to still even the barest wind and quiet the sounds of birds. Sebastian was glaring at Grell, eyes smoldering and dangerous, but made no move to attack. Be still her heart.

Did he really think she wouldn't ask? He was king of contracts, a demon of deals. Of course she'd want something for her work.

"What do you want in return?"

"I don't know yet. I suppose it depends on what I find out," she said with a wink that promised he wouldn't like whatever she decided on. "Until then, Bassy!"

Grell began to phase away, before interrupting herself mid-transition to the reaper realm. The overlap of forest and cement city was a little disorienting. "Oh, and could you please mark where they've been showing up on a map? They're likely following some sort of pattern."

And with that, she was gone. But she was definitely coming back.

* * *

Grell slunk into Will's office like a wild cat, all oiled movements and red-tipped claws. She drummed those claws on his shoulder, crawled them up like spider legs until they were rustling in his hair.

"What do you want, Grell?" he asked, voice carefully modulated. In private his first response wasn't (usually) to hit her away, and Grell liked to take full advantage of his secret patience. She didn't know where it came from, or why he had it, but questions like that rarely bothered her. "Aren't you off work now?"

"I am. I just wanted to stop by and put in a request." she said, slipping around to the other side of his chair. She produced a paper and held it in front of Will's face. "I already filled out the form."

With a disbelieving look so similar to her lovely demon's, he plucked the paper away and read it. Eventually, Grell was sure Will's eyebrows would run out of room to rise. "You _want_ desk duty?"

"Just for a little bit! I like it about as much as you like reaping, but I've been so busy in the field I've fallen behind on my paperwork."

"That never bothered you before."

Grell breathed in deeply and put her hands on her hips. This would take acting on a level unlike anything she had to do with Sebastian or humans. Will actually knew her, at least enough to call her bluffs, and she gave way so easily under him. No, she couldn't be distracted by imagining that. "I am trying to be good, Mr Spears. And being good involves doing paperwork. I accept that now."

The faint look of approval he sent her way was almost enough to turn Grell into a blushing, giggling mess. But she had a mission to do, and it involved absolutely zero giggles, so Grell steeled herself.

"Reparations did wonders for you."

Grell pouted. She hated being reminded of her reparations, especially if that division was the one getting her praise. She beat her chest dramatically. "Don't be proud of them! Be proud of me! I'm doing the work. Me!"

"Fine." That wasn't an agreement nor a compliment for her, and when he continued like she hadn't said anything at all, Grell pouted even harder in his direction. "Desk duty it is, for the next three days. Those reports had better be perfect, Mr Sutcliff." Will stamped the form and put it in his outbox, then set about fixing his hair. "Dismissed."

"Fine!" she parroted and stomped out. Grell passed her own desk in a flurry, its papers and pens still scattered haphazardly where she'd quickly filled out the form, and out the door after giving the other reapers a falsely cheerful goodbye. Will was so infuriating, she hadn't even been acting by the end.

Grell fumed and muttered to herself as she boarded the train out of the London Branch. She had managed to work herself up into a furor by the time it slowed again at her next stop. Several other reapers had moved out of her general area over the course of the trip, likely due to her gripping the arm-rests hard enough to leave tears in the leather and the smatterings of sarcastic "fine"s and " _Mister_ Sutcliff"s in poor, irate approximation of Will's voice that fell from her lips like acid. That man managed to get her from zero to riled in seconds, and in this case not in the fun way she wanted to be riled.

When she got out, the only reaper getting out at this station, Grell took a moment to compose herself. It wouldn't due to go in angry and draw attention to herself.

This little venture had seemed easier when it was still just a thought, but now she'd committed so Grell had to do the actual research. Thinking of the deal she'd made with Sebastian calmed her a little, because it also made her think of how pissed off Will would be if he found out. If he was going to be rude and dismissive, then who could blame her for finding other avenues? Even if they led here.

The building had a boxy, soot and brick facade, with a single arched doorway set into its face and lines of windows several stories high. No elegance, over-wrought or understated, to it. It just was; a great, ugly beast hunkered down in the middle of nowhere. Grell hated it. It offended all her sensibilities, from its curving iron security bars that covered every window to the tiny brass mail slot just in the alcove and the solitary lamp keeping sentry out front. But if there was information to be had on the abnormal and supernatural, here was the best place to find it.

Nervously, she patted her pocket to make sure her notes were still there, then approached the doors to the main office of the Special Concerns Program.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks to Resistant Raisin for beta help! Any errors now are 100% my own doing. Also updated the summary to be a little less vague and more in tone with the story.

* * *

Grell was ignored for the most part as she worked. Normally, this would bother her. She was naturally loud and boisterous, and that just as naturally drew a lot of attention; here, flipping through the files tucked away in the back, past the general reference material, she was quiet as a dormouse and furtive as a thief. The program had grown exponentially in the years since she'd been in it. Instead of just a handful of dedicated reapers in an old manor house in the human realm, it was now a slightly larger handful of dedicated reapers with almost a full department's worth of resources and a proper division building to house them.

The first day, she discovered that a lot of the material was completely anecdotal. A very few had sightings or actual encounters, but most were just stories reapers had heard, or evidence without a culprit. The dead were uninteresting to creatures who preyed on the living, and it made cataloguing them especially difficult. It made finding anything specific even more so.

Grell was at least able to get rid of anything described as beautiful, alluring, or otherwise captivating. A few water spirits later, and she had a small, sad pile of papers to copy.

She wound up finishing her actual work in the bathtub that night. The next day, she tried for Undertaker's bizarre dolls, but found all relevant material under lock and key. _Pending investigation_. Instead of finding someone to grant her access and thus reveal her presence here further, she ruled them out for now and began searching the more obscure literature. Demons, no. Sebastian would recognize the stink of another demon, she was sure. Unearthly phenomena, no. The signs for those were vastly different - lights, humming, lost time. Nothing to do with water.

She rested her forehead on the cool metal of the filing cabinet and closed her eyes. Grell was already running out of candidates that were anything more than footnotes and half-empty reports. For some reason she'd thought this would be easy. The Special Concerns Program was reputed to have the most extensive documentation on the paranormal and unexplained in the entire reaper realm. Now, Grell realized that just meant the other departments had absolutely nothing, making it the best by default.

Then it was time to return to the office and sift through more papers. That night she dreamt of files piled upon files and woke in a frantic sweat. By the yellow glow of her kitchen light, Grell double-checked to make sure her work was, as William demanded, perfect. Come morning she was running on coffee, sugar, and dogged stubbornness.

Everyone kept a wide berth around her at Dispatch, and she somehow made it through the day without murdering any juniors - or Eric - and got all her paperwork done. With a yawn, Grell boarded the train back to the Program's building. She hated that she'd be returning to Sebastian with so little. It made her seem incompetent. Normally that wouldn't bother her because Sebastian didn't think she was all that useful anyway, but she said she'd get something. If nothing more than to prove him wrong and wipe that sexy, smug look off his face in a way that didn't involve violence. It'd be novel.

"Bodies. Bodies, bodies," she muttered to herself as red-painted nails flicked over file names. Grell was elbow-deep into the Atlantic Division's reports, the best place to look for anything wet and weird, but also the last one she'd thought to look at out of desperation. The Phantomhive estate wasn't anywhere near the ocean, but the more times she had to visit, the more likely she was to be be noticed by the wrong sorts. Grell just wanted to do her business, get enough information to rub in Sebastian's face, and slink back to Dispatch to rub her perfect paperwork in William's face, too.

There was far better documentation to be found here, and despite her desires, Grell frequently got distracted by the more interesting, if unrelated, files she found. Much like herself, the Atlantic Division was a tad infamous. Grell had often considered transferring there, usually when Will was being particularly grating, or when playing nice with the other workers wore her down, but she knew she'd miss all the handsome men who populated the London Branch. And Ronnie.

The Atlantic Division was mostly women, mostly belligerent, and, if rumour was to be believed, often very, very violent. From the few agents she'd met, Grell found all of those traits to be true. The director of the Special Concerns Program had once been Atlantic Division, and Grell had been partnered with one of the agents just long enough to be dumped on an iceberg then left to her own devices for several, icy hours. In their brief partnership, she'd learned all sorts of new terms to describe the higher ups and humans that she, being a lady, would never utter. Just in case, though, Grell had memorized a few of the more colourful turns of phrase.

Grell supposed their peculiar attitudes, which she couldn't imagine ever being tolerated in a land-based branch, came with the things they had to deal with, coupled with the freedom being a reaper afforded women that they wouldn't have had in life. Death was the great equalizer, and some saw it far more as the boon it was than others.

She saw a few notes on the Bizarre Dolls, but most of the files were comprised of things so far beyond reaping that those who dealt with them barely qualified as _reapers_ \- ancient ruins, oceanic cults, alien creatures dwelling on the empty plains of the ocean floor. Some of them sounded absolutely chilling, and a hell of a lot more fun than paperwork.

But not what she was looking for. Grell yanked her hair in frustration. Then she yanked the filing cabinet's drawer out, scattering files across the cold, ugly-patterned floor.

She felt a little better.

Standing like the eye of a hurricane, Grell surveyed her whirl of papers lit only by a weak, golden glow of a bare bulb, then with a sigh realized she'd have to put them back. She realigned the cabinet's wheels, then began gathering loose papers and the folders they likely went to.

Even not knowing where they went, Grell wasn't doing much harm to the organizational structure, such as it was. File cabinets and card catalogues weren't multifunctional enough, and how did one even know if a draugar - a drag - a draug? Grell squinted at the foreign word. A draug went in the sea monsters or the mariners folder? The drawing looked a bit like both, so with a shrug she shoved it in the latter and pushed it to the back of the filing cabinet.

She took it back out. Mariners. Those were wet and rotting and human-shaped - or at least the ones reapers had any business dealing with would be. It would have been nice if they'd just called them bodies, or corpses, or literally anything that wasn't an occupation. A draug didn't sound quite like what she was looking for, but it was a start.

* * *

"-ebastian! I found something!" Grell phased into Ciel's office, landing daintily to the side of Sebastian, who had just finished pouring a cup of tea. The demon jerked in blatant surprise, eyes wide, tea sloshing threateningly at the rim of the cup as it rattled toward the edge of the saucer. Grell's hands flew to her mouth as she watched Sebastian almost drop the teacup. He didn't, because what sort of butler would he be then, but the glare he shot at her sent shivers down her spine.

Then Grell realized she had dropped everything into a heap on the floor. Because that was the sort of butler _she_ was, even when she wasn't a butler.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ciel asked after signing a paper and flicking through to the next signature line. He had only looked up to give Grell the most cursory of glances, assured that Sebastian would handle the intruder. Sebastian handed him his tea while Grell tried to get her papers a little more under control.

"Bassy?" she asked from where she crouched. Was she not supposed to let the kid know about this? If so, Sebastian really only had himself to blame for not telling her.

"I apologize, my lord," Sebastian said with all the ease of one who wasn't sorry at all. "I had an issue that only a reaper could assist with. And while Mr Sutcliff and I have had our differences, he is the most amiable toward my kind. However, if I recall correctly I told him to only appear here in his human guise." The ensuing, pointed silence was louder than it had any right to be.

Grell let out a sigh as she complied, grumbling to herself about how nobody was even here. This was pointless. She felt so ugly and gross and clumsy. Stupid disguise...

"What issue?" Ciel asked as though Grell wasn't there at all. The piles of paperwork and his ability to ignore her reminded Grell of Will. She shuddered. That was not an association she wanted to be making.

While Sebastian filled in his little lord, who until now had in fact been unaware, Grell slipped entirely into her disguise and got her papers facing about the same direction before setting them down on the tea tray. Then, while they weren't looking, she picked up the delicate little fork and took a bite out of Ciel's snack, a cake that probably had a very fancy, very French name. Maybe she'd take just another bite. Sebastian made absolutely _heavenly_ food, and that scrap of a boy really ought to eat less sweets anyway if he wanted go grow any taller.

"I think they're some type of mariners," she said around the fork once attention had returned to her again. Grell swallowed and pointed at her papers with the utensil. Sebastian flipped through them. "Though I found some other possibilities, they seemed to best match your descriptions. They don't do much but stand around being creepy. Usually under several thousand pounds of water."

"So Undertaker's not involved?" Ciel asked, already turned to address this new problem. "When last we saw him, he had modified his dolls enough that they could come across as alive. He wanted to 'see what was after the end'."

"They'll have an execution order out for him, if he's not careful," Grell said carelessly, filing that bit of information away for later contemplation. Undertaker obviously had some issues with his lot in the afterlife. While many reapers did, present company excluded, he was taking his in a very strange direction. What was after the end... She wondered if he found anything yet. "I can't rule him out until I can access their records, but if they're not attacking it's not likely. So, Bassy? Did I do good?"

"There's one thing I don't see, Mr Sutcliff," Sebastian said as he flipped through the papers.

"You can call me Grell, you know. Or Miss."

"The one thing I don't see, Mr Sutcliff," he repeated. "Is why they're here."

Grell shrugged, unbothered by the fact that she hadn't been able to procure that particular bit of information. A lot of the documents had also been edited of sensitive information when she copied them, so Sebastian couldn't see the full picture even if there was a full picture to see. He'd just have to trust that she was being honest. Grell wanted to help, after all, not be branded a traitor. It was a fine line.

"I couldn't find anything about a situation like this," she said. "They're something the ocean divisions deal with. From what I couldn't find, showing up this far inland has never happened before."

Sebastian sighed and took the plate of half-finished cake out of Grell's hand. He set it on the tea tray, ignoring Ciel who had swivelled around to eye the cake as though he'd be willing to eat it regardless of the fork marks already there. Sebastian delicately draped a linen over the cake so that everyone knew it was now trash. "I suppose I should be happy you managed to find anything at all."

"If it doesn't exist, I can't find it," Grell snapped defensively, standing a little straighter and looking Sebastian right in the eye. She heard a snort from Ciel and realized that her mouse of a disguise didn't make for the most intimidating of pictures. Regardless, she glared at Sebastian until his lip quirked up a little. She scowled even harder.

"What would you like for this information?" Sebastian said, voice carefully neutral.

Grell let out a short, very unladylike victory cackle before lapsing into thought. "Hm," she said loudly, placing a finger on her chin. Let him writhe as she figured out what she wanted. She'd been so caught up in actually finding the information, she hadn't even thought about her payment after the initial threat. "Call me Miss Sutcliff. She, her, and so on indefinitely." She grinned as his eyes widened.

"That's it?"

"That's i- Oh! Rather," and here, she tapped her nose, then pointed at Sebastian. Demons, genies, and all their ilk, Grell had read once, were dreadfully pedantic, so she had to be careful. "Treat me as the woman I am. That's it."

Sebastian breathed sharply through his nose, then turned almost pleadingly to Ciel. "My lord?"

The boy waved his hand, rings flashing in the morning sunlight streaming through the window at his back, as though waving away the entire spectacle of a reaper before him.

"Do as he says."

Grell wrinkled her nose at the little earl's choice of words, but she'd take any small victory. Having a demon see her how she should be, not how she was? Well that was nothing to huff at, even if his master wasn't bound to those same rules.

"Of course, my lord. Miss Sutcliff."

Grell couldn't contain her giggles as she danced over to Sebastian. When she tripped on a particularly spirited pirouette, he reflexively caught her before she hit the trolley and its sundry breakables. Barely phased, Grell threw her arms around Sebastian's waist before he could throw her away. "You've made me the happiest girl!" she declared, voice muffled by his jacket.

Sebastian pried her off easily, draping another linen over her face as he did so. It confused her for a heartbeat, long enough that he could shift his hold to her shoulders, keeping her at arm's length.

"Is there anything else I can help with?" she asked, crumpling the napkin in her hands and smiling a rather strained smile. She wasn't cake, she wasn't trash, and she _was_ going to prove it to Sebastian. Grell knew she was treading toward over-investment - she shouldn't care what a demon thought - but it was all or nothing with her.

"No."

"Yes," Ciel said. They both looked at him, confused. He pointed out the window. "I believe those creatures are standing in Baldroy's herb garden. Go investigate them. I want this solved as soon as possible."

Sebastian glanced out the window, then with another 'yes, my lord', motioned for Grell to follow. She flicked the napkin at Ciel as she skipped along behind him. When she stumbled at the threshold, she was reminded that walking was the much safer option in this form with these heels. Grell looked at her gloved hands as she trailed behind Sebastian, flexing them, feeling the weakness in her grip.

It really was an awful form. Why did he insist on tormenting her so?

* * *

Finny had found them before Grell and Sebastian could arrive, and he and the new servant stood several feet away as though gauging their foes. Grell waved at the snakes wrapped around the other boy's neck and arms as they swivelled their heads and flicked their tongues in her direction. Reapers as a general rule got along with animals, and Grell in particular liked anything sharp, deadly, and sensual. Snakes certainly fell into that category.

"I've never seen them this close to the manor," Sebastian told Grell. The others turned at the sound of his voice. "Finnian, Snake. You are free to return to your duties."

"What about Mr Grell, sir? It doesn't seem very safe. Oh, Snake, this is Grell. He used to be the butler for the master's aunt."

"It's nice to meet you, Snake." Grell stopped several steps behind the group and gave a timid little bow, which was returned awkwardly by the other servant.

"'It's nice to meet you too,' says Oscar," he mumbled, quickly turning away. He didn't look at all comfortable in his role, and Grell frowned thoughtfully at his back. Where had she seen him before? That was going to keep bothering her.

"Grell is assisting me. You need not worry about hi - her - Grell's safety," Sebastian said, stumbling over the new rule. Grell moved to stand a little behind Sebastian, keeping the taller butler between her and the creatures and looking properly worried at their appearance. She used his body to hide the tiny smile that belied the rest of her expression.

"Are - are you sure it's safe, Sebastian?" she asked as the others retreated, though not with a few glances back. Her fingers found his jacket sleeve and twisted in it. "They look quite unnerving." That last line wasn't entirely Grell acting, the more she saw of them.

Waterlogged flesh was always unsightly, but waterlogged _living_ flesh was downright unnatural. Sea creatures had nested and nibbled wherever they pleased, and several hung limp and lifeless, half-burrowed into tissue that was a swollen, pulpy white. A strange gurgling emerged from their mouths, several of which didn't seem capable of closing, and water bubbled in the backs of their throats. Curiously, they had eyes, though they were like a fish's, bulging black marbles that stared off into some middle distance a little higher than themselves. She could smell the rot of the ocean. It cloyed worse than when she had to dive down to the Campania and finish collecting the souls. Grell felt Sebastian's earlier descriptions weren't entirely apt. Could he not _smell_ them? One hand rose to daintily cover her nose while the other tightened around Sebastian's arm.

"Stop that," he said, shaking her off. "Work quickly before they find the others and begin to snoop."

Grell stepped away from Sebastian and focused on shifting just her presence, while keeping the visual disguise up. It was a more nuanced process than simply removing it all, but doable. Being the only shifter she'd ever heard of, Grell had practised and perfected all sorts of techniques, as it was up to her to see where the boundaries lay. It was her duty, as the director liked to remind her of.

She summoned her scythe and knelt to unhook the chain. This required precision her death scythe in its entirety was adamantly not designed for.

"Wait."

Grell glanced up at the order and yelped, toppling over in a tangle of scythe chains and machinery. Water that had previously stagnated in throats oozed out like oil to pool at the creatures' feet, and blank, dead eyes stared down at her.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks to Resistant Raisin for their beta help. Everything hereafter is my own doing. This will be the last chapter they're able to work on for the near future, so I'd just like to remind everyone that I am 100% open to feedback in reviews.

* * *

Grell carefully untangled herself as they stared and stood, chain in hand. The creatures made no move except to tilt their heads up just a little.

"What are they doing?"

"Walk to the left," Sebastian said. Not taking her eyes off the creatures, Grell did so. Their gaze followed her. "It would seem they're watching you."

Grell shifted from foot to foot, unsure of how to proceed, until Sebastian cleared his throat.

"Well? We haven't got all day, Grell."

She whined, but steeled herself nonetheless. Grell was a reaper, and they were just... well, she wasn't sure what they were exactly, as their files had been only so helpful, but they were certainly not on level with a reaper. She hoped.

Wrapping the chain around her hands, she stretched a length tight and tentatively approached. Much as she'd like to go her usual route and hack them to bits to see what lay inside, Sebastian would scowl at her like he did the other servants, like he did when he thought she was just a butler. It wasn't a sexy scowl, but rather a look of eternal, expected disappointment. Grell got that enough at work.

Though their cold eyes followed her, there was no further movement from the creatures. The ground squelched as she approached, turned to mud that sucked at her shoes. Grell caught one just above where several long, reddish tube-like worms lay, dead without their water, and the teeth sank in deeper than expected, meeting none of the normal resistance of flesh. She gagged at the smell and made sure to not breathe. That also meant no talking; the sooner she was away the better.

The cinematic record rolled out, and Sebastian made the surprised sound Grell couldn't. It was absolutely mangled, and far too much was coming out for just that tiny cut. With the dead, their records often struggled to reach for heaven so were easily collected without even touching the body, but the living needed a real maiming to get their records. Grell had known these creatures weren't truly alive, but they weren't truly dead, either. This was like cutting into a sandbag. Everything just poured out.

She stepped back as it unspun, as though the merest contact would contaminate her. Sebastian shared no such worry, and reached out to touch a length. It passed through his hand, and he pulled back, staring at his gloved palm.

Grell played nervously with the length of chain, fretting over whether she should collect it or not. It wasn't stopping despite the shallowness of the cut, and as she watched, she caught glimpses of the life the man must have lived, riddled with holes. She certainly couldn't leave it to be picked apart by scavengers like Sebastian. Though she knew that wasn't his type of thing, the other reapers didn't. It was her duty as a reaper to collect souls, one she learned to take more seriously now for disdain of reparations if not for actual care, and if ever there was a soul that needed collecting, it was one of the damned and drowned.

"I'm going to collect it," she announced. As soon as she breathed in air to speak, the stench coated her tongue, viscous and oily. It was getting worse the longer they watched. "Try not to let anything hurt me, please?"

"Of course, Grell."

Grell glanced askew at Sebastian's easy agreement. Them not being at odds was unusual enough as it was, but she supposed he never really carried any particular malice toward her as an individual. So long as she wasn't in the way, or offending his aesthetic, or trying to eviscerate him to get at his pretty red insides, he didn't care either way about her. She gave him a dirty look, earning a polite look of bafflement, then turned her attention back to the creature.

Rolling several lengths of her scythe chain into a loop, she tossed it over the record and dragged it closer to be viewed. Instead of golden, its backlight was a sickly blue, but she could watch it, streaming through the man's entire life in a single breath. After that, it was nothing but ocean so deep the sun barely reached, amorphous shapes lumbering, slithering, flicking in the gloom. She watched as salt and sea ate away at his soul.

There was something else, though, scattered between record and holes. Grell caught a length and brought it closer for inspection. Tiny eyes, the brightest blue she'd ever seen, speckled the record like polka dots.

Grell shoved the record away and let it peter out without having been completely viewed. That was only a formality, and she'd seen enough. There wasn't anything left to the man he'd been before.

When she turned her attention back to the outside world, Sebastian had removed the other creatures, and the one whose record she'd been watching lay still at her feet. The demon stood sentry over it, silverware glinting in his hand, but it had given up the ghost along with its record.

"What did you see?" Sebastian asked.

"I think-" Grell rubbed her eyes, trying to dispel the blue glow. "I think something saw me."

Sebastian's eyebrows twitched up a little, but before he could comment his gaze drifted to the manor. "Ah, we have company."

Grell quickly dematerialized her scythe except for the chain. That she slipped into her pocket to deal with later.

Her human presence settled around her like a shroud, and she felt almost comforted by it, a strange sensation but not unwelcome compared to how it usually felt. Until she let the disguise slip, she'd been just another human to be ignored.

She turned at the sound of the others approaching and took a step away from the body. Something hard and small hit her shin. Grell stumbled. Sebastian caught her, and she looked up at him with a confusing mix of maiden blush and severe frown. When she tried to straighten, his grip tightened, keeping her in an awkward swoon against him.

"Mr Grell, are you all right?" Finny asked as they crowded around. Grell had to wonder how they got anything done, always moving like a pack. At least that boy, Snake, looked like he knew he should be doing something else besides playing spectator.

"Perhaps you were right earlier," Sebastian said before Grell could speak up. She pinched him on the side instead, as payback for that rock he flicked. She just knew a bruise was forming on her shin. "Grell has far too delicate a constitution to be shown such things. Please take her inside and see that she has a cup of tea." He shoved her into Bard to deal with. "I'll clean this up."

When nobody made a move to leave, as they were actively trying to peer past Sebastian to see the body and not really paying any attention to him, he cleared his throat. " _Now_."

* * *

Bard kept an arm around Grell's shoulder as he led her into the kitchen, as though afraid she was going to faint if forced to walk on her own. As they entered, she caught sight of the only servant absent thus far. Tanaka sat next to the oven, his customary cup of tea in hand.

"Don't know what he's thinkin'," Bard muttered, chewing on his cigarette. "Showin' you those people. It's obvious you weren't up for that."

"Well, he did want my input on them," she said weakly as she was maneuvered into a chair near Tanaka, so they could both be warmed by the oven. Now that she was surrounded by heat, she realized she'd been cold. Very cold, in a numb sort of way. That was a rare sensation. Grell rubbed her arms. "I couldn't very well give it without seeing them."

Bard went to make the tea Sebastian had ordered, and the others immediately swarmed in to take his place. Grell hunched down into herself, playing self-consciously with a brown lock of hair.

"What do you think they are?" Meyrin asked. "I was thinking they was the shambling undead, come to avenge the wrongs committed 'gainst them." Grell glanced up, startled. That was an oddly perceptive hypothesis, and it was as good as any she'd come up with so far.

"Ignore her," Bard called from across the kitchen. "She's been reading too many gothic novels."

"Couldn't they just be ill people, like Bard suggested last time?" Finny said. "I don't like that we had to, um... uh..." he trailed off, looking at Grell.

"We had to call the police, we did," Meyrin stepped in. "Them people got carted away to Bedlam, I'm sure of it."

"And what about that one out there now? Here, Grell. You look a bit peaky." Bard held out a cup and saucer, and Grell took it with a watery smile and thanks. "It's no problem," Bard said gruffly, turning his attention to the table Finny had decided to perch on and shoo him off as he spoke, as though he ran a respectable kitchen.

While the others theorized around her, she zoned out, musing over Mey-Rin's theory. Something was attracting them, definitely. They were sea and salt, not fit for the land. And Sebastian hadn't wanted Ciel involved - perhaps they were some old victims of the demon's, or otherwise associated. Grell had to remind herself that he did exist before Ciel, and would exist long after. Sebastian probably had a lot of bodies in his wake, and not just the ones he killed, but those he had killed for, before devouring. She shivered, thinking of him swallowing down souls with that artificial grin on his face.

"Sebastian shouldn't have had you out there with him, especially if he was going to kill 'em. Not everyone's got the stomach for death. How're you holding up?"

"Eh?" Grell asked around the weak tea, once she realized Bard had directed that at her. He was being far kinder to her this time around. Grell could work with this. "Oh, the death. Yes. I feel sorry for that poor man - " She forced a hiccough and set her cup down to bring the back of her hand to her mouth, stifling a cry. "I - I'm sorry. I've never seen anyone die before. Not like that."

Arms were around her, strong but aware of their strength. Grell gave a squeak before she realized she was being hugged, not hit. She still couldn't bring herself to relax at the sudden contact.

"Please don't cry, Mr Grell!" Finny declared far louder than he had to right next to her ear. "We'll make sure you don't have to see that again."

"Yeah, you weren't one of us for long, but you were one of us," Bard added, letting his hand come to rest on Grell's shoulder. "We look out for our own."

"Yes indeed, sir!" Meyrin chirped from the other side of Grell, winding her arms into the group hug. Beyond the cage of their arms, Grell could hear the customary, quiet laugh of Tanaka.

If she wasn't careful, all this unexpected support would make her actually tear up, even if it wasn't really for _her_. She covered Bard's hand with her own. "Thank you, all of you. You're very kind."

Bard pulled away and broke up the hug. "It's no problem. I've seen men cut up over less, and it doesn't make them any less of a man for it." His gaze slipped to Finny a moment, before returning to Grell. The look seemed a little out of place to her, as she knew for a fact Finny had killed before. And that was where she'd seen Snake. The cinematic records of those circus people. At least one question had been answered.

"You just enjoy your tea, and me and Tanaka'll be right here if you need." He landed a knife in his butcher's block, then turned to the others hovering. "Finny, Meyrin, Snake. Don't you have work to do?"

They scrambled away with assurances that they were there for her (well, him - Grell couldn't even correct them, here), too, and they were glad that Grell wasn't too undone. Snake paused a moment, and presented a red, black, and yellow banded snake wrapped around his wrist. "I hope you feel better, says Emily."

Grell took that in stride. "Thank you, Emily," she told her.

The snake hissed a reply, but Grell missed it as Snake was already retreating, following the others. If he hadn't said anything, it was easy to forget he was there. That boy actively tried to blend into walls, and with his history that she'd seen, she understood why. Poor dear.

The kitchen fell unnaturally silent as soon as they were gone, until Bard began chopping some vegetables. Grell sipped her tea, thinking about the record stored away on the chain in her pocket, and they fell into a contemplative lull.

"So what's with the molly outfit?" Bard asked.

Grell choked.

* * *

Grell popped in and out of the estate for the next few days, but little else of note happened, and that fact settled between Sebastian and herself, despite their partnership courtesy of Ciel's demand that she help.

She'd left Sebastian to match her diagrams with his map of appearances, but though he succeeded, Grell had been unable to find what they meant. He claimed to have no enemies, which Grell found suspicious but Sebastian wouldn't lie, she was sure of it. A man who was literally an embodiment of evil, without enemies. What a force to be reckoned with, and Grell had to resist the urge to do just that.

Another failure was what to do with her chain. The spare was already on her scythe, but she couldn't actually submit the record without catching someone's attention. Sebastian had outright refused her brilliant idea to hide the paperwork under some near identical papers courtesy of him killing someone, muttering something about reaper aesthetics or the lack thereof. So the chain sat in her vest pocket, an unusual, slightly disorienting weight, constantly reminding her of the questions she'd been unable to find answers for.

She remateralized at the manor in the darkest, dampest part of night, after the moon had gone down and sunrise was just about to come. After a quick jaunt around to see if any of those creatures were standing on the lawns as the sky began to lighten, she approached the window to Sebastian's room and climbed up to peek inside. She could see the white of his shirt and skin glowing in the pre-dawn light where he was laying, doll-like, on top of the covers. Grell barely got one tap out before he was at the window, sliding it up.

"Go away."

Sebastian closed the window, turned, and left the room.

She stared at her own reflection, his words not registering for a moment, then began rapping her knuckles on the glass panes. "Hey! Let me in!"

Grell waited. He didn't return. With a disgruntled sigh, she glanced around for any prying eyes before flickering into invisibility and letting herself in. The manor was silent and dark, everyone still in bed except for one, solitary servant. And a handful of mewling cats. It took only a moment's consideration for Grell to throw open Sebastian's wardrobe and release the cats.

Grell left them to roam free, and returned to the matter at hand. She found Sebastian alone in the kitchen.

"What'd you do that for?" Grell asked, startling him from the dishes he was setting out for Ciel's breakfast. He caught one before it could hit the ground.

With a controlled movement that oozed suppressed anger, Sebastian set the plate on the tray next to its brethren. "I believe I told you to only come by if you have information."

"I can't get information if I don't come by."

Sebastian was silent as he began to work. As he wasn't kicking her out, Grell settled in on the counter to await his response. When he continued to not say anything, she began to suspect he was ignoring her in the hopes that that would make her leave. Grell didn't have a job until 9:00, so she was going nowhere.

Finally, he turned to her. "It would appear we're at an impasse, then."

"Why didn't you tell me what they actually looked like?"

"What do you mean?"

"You left out a lot of details that would have helped me identify them faster when you first described them."

"You didn't tell me everything, either."

Grell glowered at him in that way that showed her teeth and her disdain all in one. She thought she'd been careful editing the documents, but he was clever. There was no use denying that she'd redacted information. "I don't tell you things because it could get me in trouble. You don't tell me things because you're an arse."

"True," he said with a shrug. "I apologize for not giving you all the necessary information. Given our history, I can be rather reticent when dealing with your kind." A silence fell as Sebastian worked, and Grell thought he was ignoring her again until he said, "Perhaps it would behoove you to do the same toward mine, lest you find yourself in trouble." The smile that accompanied his statement was cold and hard.

"If you hadn't noticed, Bassy, I want the kind of trouble you're offering." She winked, and had to stifle a giggle at how naughty she was being.

Sebastian's smile lost some of its chill, and when he suddenly moved, Grell's hands flew to protect her face. At the lack of ensuing violence, she peeked at him from behind her fingers. His hands were braced on the counter on either side of her, his face close enough to share breath. She lowered her hands slowly.

"You really don't, Miss Sutcliff."

He leaned back and picked up the tray as though nothing had happened. She watched Sebastian leave in silence, and sat mulling over his words until Bard came tramping down the stairs.

Grell disappeared in a haze of light.

* * *

Several Sebastian-less days later, she found herself fidgeting in front of a sparsely populated, tidy desk. Grell stood in Will's office, waiting for him to say something. The minutes stretched out. She wished he'd look up at her, at least, instead of at the letter in his hand, reading over every word again. A very similar one was in her own pocket, handed to her when she'd gone in to collect her assignments for the day.

Grell had known her curiosity would get the best of her. And she'd only just made peace with the fact that it was over, that maybe it was best Sebastian had kicked her out, despite that it meant she was useless. It was exhausting living a double life, just like she'd been doing with Anne, and Grell knew it had to blow up in her face sooner rather than later. Everyone was just waiting for a repeat.

"Temp Agent Grell Sutcliff," he began, nothing but formal.

"Yes, Will?" She couldn't help the faint hopeful tint to her words. Surely they were too understaffed, so Will would fight to keep her, like he'd fought to keep her after Anne. It warmed her heart just to think about that, though it also hurt, just to think about that.

"You are being reassigned to the Special Concerns Program, effective immediately. Please hand in your identification and your keys. All porting rights to this location will be revoked. You may not enter London Dispatch without supervision and superior clearance, and you will be escorted off the premise. Do you understand?"

Grell threw herself forward, half onto his desk. "I don't want to go, William! Don't make me leave!"

Will's gaze finally rose to meet Grell's, and surprisingly, he made no move to shove her off his desk. "This is an executive decision, Grell. You're for all intents and purposes already gone. Besides," he added somewhat roughly, reorganizing some papers Grell had knocked askew. "We knew your position here was only temporary, to better distribute the workload. You've never officially been a part of the London Branch."

Grell sank down off of his desk, taking with her a cup of pens and a memo pad. She'd felt like part of the London Branch.

Will had already prepared himself to let her go, already came up with justifications and reasons to counter her emotional pleas. Normally Grell loved this coldness, but not when it had actual consequences she cared about. She sat on the floor, back pressed to the desk, and picked up one of the pens to cap and uncap morosely. Grell heard William shifting around, but he made no move to come to her side of the desk or retrieve his spilled office supplies.

"What's your assignment?" Will asked, finally. "The letter didn't specify."

"You wouldn't like it." Cap on. Cap off. Cap on.

"Are you able to tell me? I'll make no judgment either way."

Cap off. "I don't see why not." Grell knocked her head against his desk, face scrunched up in frustration. "Ah, I did this to myself."

"Did what?"

"I was looking up something for Sebastian, and I guess the director got wind of it. Now I'm officially investigating."

The rustling of papers and scratch of pen fell eerily silent. "You were giving information to that vermin? You're lucky you weren't put before the council for treason, Grell! With your record, it would have been a one-way trip to Antarctica."

Grell couldn't help but smile at the worry in his voice. Yes, it was hidden under a layer of anger, but it was there nonetheless, contradicting his promise not to judge. "It wasn't anything like that. Just... stories, weird things, completely harmless. He honestly could have found them on his own, if he knew where to look. I've been doing it for about a week, now." Her mild tone turned acidic. "That nasty serpent must have been keeping tabs on what I was doing the entire time. _Spying_ on me. I wonder if I can get back pay for it?"

"By serpent I assume you mean Director Sutcliff. It'll win you no favour to refer to her as such."

Grell turned around so she could sit on her knees and peek over the edge of the desk at Will. "I don't want any favour with her, Will."

"I think I know why you're in this situation, then, Grell." Will's decisive, brush stroke eyebrows rose as he gave her a very pointed look.

Grell scrunched her nose in his direction, but secretly she was relieved. Will wasn't brushing her aside, ready to move on and slide some newbie into her desk before the seat had even gotten cold. He didn't tease just anybody. Grell knew he'd miss her. Dispatch just wouldn't be the same without her.


	5. Chapter 5

I am now certain there's gonna be a bit of Grell/Bard and Ronald/Mey-Rin floating around in this story, just as warning. If anything else changes as the story progresses, I'll make note of it.

* * *

Grell lingered in Will's office for as long as he allowed it, and it went far longer than she expected. Immediately apparently meant something different when one was in management. They both knew that as soon as she left, she'd have a new division to report to and there was no telling when she might, if she might, be assigned to the London Branch again. She had come in to assuage the lack of staff, but with new reapers coming in all the time, even that reason was growing a little thin.

Will decided not to tell the others until Grell had gone, and would have Ronald pack up her things and deliver them later. "To the Phantomhive Estate," he had clarified acridly. He kicked Grell out when she started quoting Shakespeare and inviting him to visit in his off hours to have some fun, now that he wasn't her superior any more.

Grell stopped by her apartment to change into more muted clothes. Despite how he approached it, Bard had been right that she looked very uncouth, and her usual attire didn't match her persona at all.

She carefully hung her red jacket and hunted down the ribbon she'd worn as Madam Red's butler.

It still smelled faintly of her madam's perfume after being stored away for so long, and she pressed it to her face, knowing the scent would dissipate as she wore it. Only rarely did Grell wish she wasn't so impulsive, as so much fun came from being so, but Madam Red's death was one of them. While her record had remained unknown, buried deep inside of her, it had been easy to love her. Yet Grell had cut Anne open, exposed the reality once hidden in blood and muscle and bone. She could never rewind that record of a life defined by other people, by one man in particular, when Grell had thought her so much more.

This scent reminded her of dark rooms, dangerous curves, and wandering hands that moved with surgical precision to bring pleasure, pain, or both. Grell wanted to commit the fantasy to memory. It would make wearing her disguise a little more bearable.

She washed her face clean of her make-up, then threw a collection of supplies into a bag before popping over to the Phantomhive estate, appearing in one of the ruins farther from the manor itself. She had staked it out ages ago for her primary jump point when she spied on Sebastian or had to collect souls of those killed. Mostly the former, as her collections rarely dealt with adult men. After checking to make sure nobody was around, Grell set the mirror on a crumbling wall and materialized further so as to be visible to humans.

Fluffing out her hair, she slowly changed it to brown, shortened it, and brushed it back to be secured by the bow. Next, her face. She checked to make sure none of her usual cosmetics had made it through the washing, leaving only faint freckles from a childhood spent in the wilds of continental Europe and slightly rounder contours from those she painted on herself. Grell made several expressions, checked her teeth, then stepped back. The only thing left was to alter her presence, which would likewise change her eye colour. No living human could have the eyes of a reaper, and she was getting better and better at passing for one.

Grell knew she was stalling by going step by slow step, no matter how she justified it as being cautious. The letter had said the demon's master had been informed of this assignment, as well, and Grell didn't want to think how that was being taken. Sebastian had wanted to keep this quiet, even from his lord at first, and to have reapers nosing about went entirely against that notion.

With a change of glasses to ones that were designed for her human eyes, she was ready to meet her fate.

Grell circled to an old, broken-stoned path that lead from some unknown place deeper in the forest to the manor grounds. The day was a little overcast and the ground spongy, with puddles still quivering in dips and holes. A mist that never seemed to disperse lurked deeper in the dense forest, and she could see the occasional tumbled rocks that looked like they might have been structures, or simply an upheaval of earth. Grell had no clue why so many ruins littered the estate, but they did lend a Gothic sort of charm to it.

It also lent a certain unease to her walk, human and vulnerable as she was. Though the creatures did nothing so far, she couldn't help but replay the memories she'd seen, of strange things in the oceanic gloom, almost unearthly in their movements, in their shapes. She could almost see them in the shadows of the forest, in the farther haze and darker places. Perhaps she would have done better to appear closer.

Several ravens croaked from nearby branches, and Grell nearly leapt out of her skin. She pouted at their cackling laughter, then realized something. Ravens were smart birds, smarter than most animals, so they usually had something to talk about other than food or sex or the colour of the sky.

"Hey, ravens, have you seen anything weird here?"

"We see a reaper with nobody to reap," they said. Flocking birds were always a bit off-putting with their uniform thinking, like talking to a dozen identical voices just out of sync with each other.

"Oh, thanks. You're so helpful."

"Have you tried reaping that person behind you?" they asked. "Right, right. Behind you, reaper."

Grell spun around, already reaching into her pocket for the scythe chain she still carried. There wasn't time to change so she could summon her complete scythe -

There also wasn't anybody there. She whirled back around as their laughter picked up again.

"You pigeons! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"We must have been mistaken," they said, speaking almost to each other. The dry delivery reminded Grell of a certain red-eyed butler. "Yes, that was in the night when she was there. The night. Right, right. Now it's day. Day. Yes. The sun's so high. The woman's gone. Now we have a reaper. Maybe she is the reaper? They all look the same from up here. Right."

The chain returned to her pocket, though for a moment Grell had contemplated cutting down the tree just to spite the birds. With her luck as it currently was, it probably would have fallen on her anyway. "A woman was here?"

"She was, she was," said the ravens. "Yesternight. Her eyes were pretty and blue. We wanted to pluck them for our nests. What happened to your pretty eyes, reaper?"

"I'm hiding them from you," she said, pushing her glasses up a little higher. These were more appropriate to the time period, but they didn't offer nearly the same protection her normal pair did.

"That's wise. We'd want to pluck them too. Yes."

"I'm leaving now." To emphasize her point, she turned on her heel. "If you have anything else to say to me, I might be able to find you something better than eyes to line your morbid little nests with."

Grell began walking, back straighter and less afraid as she heard the flutter of wings and murmur of bird-words. Even if they were just birds, it was better than being alone. They followed behind her, jumping tree to tree and occasionally calling out new information.

"It rained all night."

"She saw the moon in the moonless sky."

"She wasn't afraid of what lives in the forest."

"What lives in the forest was afraid of her."

"We weren't afraid. We were above her."

"We watched her."

"She looked like moonlight and shadow."

"Like wind and rain."

"Her eyes were blue."

"Blue, blue eyes."

The forest began to thin, being replaced by uneven ground and more prominent ruins. They looked like they'd been abandoned recently, compared to what the trees had already eaten. As Grell listened, she began to think this woman was just moonlight and shadow, a complete fabrication. Ravens were known liars, fraudsters, and other such confabulators, just like humans.

"She spoke like a bird, but they were human words."

"She spoke like a human, but they weren't human words."

Grell passed the pond that housed a small, artificial island, and the boathouse that stored an unused, rotting rowboat. The ground was especially soggy here, practically mud, and she had to dance from broken paver to broken paver to keep her shoes clean. Grell felt she did a very good job not falling over. There were only a few mishaps, and only her pants' hem suffered. It was just a matter of getting familiar with how this body worked.

"She came and went with the moon."

Grell began the uphill climb to the estate and the forest fell away in its entirety, leaving only grass and shrub. The rainwater everywhere made it somewhat treacherous, and her human limitations made it daunting after so much walking already. Without trees to roost in, the ravens landed on bush and stone, or hopped along beside her, crooning about the woman being made of loam, salt, mud, earth - worms and scales and water-words.

"Make sense, would you!" she snapped finally, standing winded at the top of the path. The ravens crowded around, still murmuring, repeating their claims. Grell didn't think this body was out of shape, though she didn't have an original human reference to tell, but she definitely needed to pace herself better.

"We just tell you what we saw," the ravens said. "We know what we -" They suddenly scattered in a whirl of feathers and screams, and Grell threw her hands up to protect her eyes. She felt the air of their passing, and the brush of a wing or two.

"Grell! Ah, dammit, it's one of those snakes. Just stay where you are."

Grell lowered her arms. Bard was jogging over to her, and one of the ravens lay dead on the ground next to a particularly venomous looking snake. She heard it hissing about its catch, but unless they were directly talking it was hard to make out anything more specific. Grell supposed snakes and ravens weren't the best of bedfellows.

Bard took a wide arc around the snake, a look of fear and disgust mingled on his face, until he was just in front of Grell.

"Bastards give me the creeps," he muttered, low enough for only Grell to here. "You didn't get bit, did ya? By the snake or the birds." Grell shook her head, stilling when she realized Bard had begun to pat her free of a few wayward feathers. He pulled the last one from her hair and flicked it away without comment. She hoped he hadn't seen her arguing with the ravens. She was having enough trouble getting invested in this deception as it was without having to explain why she was yelling at birds.

When he didn't bring it up, she said, "Please don't think me rude for asking, but why are you out here, Mr Baldroy?"

"You can call me Bard. 'S what everyone else does. And Sebastian said you'd be coming by. Don't know how he knew you'd be coming by this way, though," Bard said, looking down the path Grell had walked. "I never seen anyone use this path."

"He couldn't wait until I was actually at the manor?" She looked politely confused, but inside she grimaced. That didn't bode well at all.

"Nah, uh. It wasn't that." Bard walked faster, reaching into his pocket for a match to light his cigarette. Grell had to trot a little to keep up with his longer stride. "I just wanted to make sure you made it. Things have been a little weird as of late. Weirder than normal. And if those guys are living out in the woods - if one of them grabbed you..." He trailed off, and both he and Grell shuddered. He brought up a good point, as they still didn't know where they were coming from, and she decided retroactively it had been a good idea to shift before making the trek.

"How smart. I hadn't even considered that."

"That's kinda my job, so I've got to be smart about it," Bard said dismissively, but he was grinning around his cigarette. Grell smiled back before she remembered she was supposed to be far more dour and let it fall away, eyes dropping to the ground. A few yards away, the snake was slithering back to the house.

* * *

As soon as the door clicked closed behind her, she said, "I had nothing to do with it!"

"I have more important things to do than deal with reaper politics. I'm letting Sebastian decide how to handle this," Ciel replied.

Said butler was currently cutting another damn cake. Ever calm, he placed two even slices on two identical plates. He handed a piece to Ciel, then approached Grell.

She stared warily at the plate he offered her. "By handle this, do you mean poison?"

"Nonsense. It would be rude to poison a guest." Grell took the plate and cut a tiny piece off the edge to try. "I had assumed poison wouldn't work on your kind, anyway."

"Oh, uh. You're absolutely right. No effect whatsoever," she said quickly. Her human body did leave her vulnerable in several very human ways, but Grell hoped he'd just accept that as the truth.

Sebastian's eyes glinted as he gave a predatory grin. "That's good to know."

Grell stared him dead in the eye as she ate another, bigger bite. It was good, like apple pie mixed with bread pudding, and she wasn't going to be intimidated by implied threats, even if Sebastian was the sort who could and would easily act on them.

"Perhaps we should discuss the matter of your employment elsewhere," he said instead of testing the boundaries. "Please, follow me to my office, and bring your plate if you'd like. I just ask that you not try to eat and walk at the same time."

"So you're okay with me being here?" she asked, holding the plate like a holy relic as they left Ciel to his papers. His brows were scrunched as he read over the documents, like a sullen, miniature adult already wearied by life's tedium. Grell might've felt a little bad about what she did to Anne for him, as well.

"Your associate made a very strong argument for your presence. I simply happened to agree."

"You got an actual person?"

Sebastian held up a letter. "To deliver this. You say you had no part in this, yet this letter had a very curious signature at the bottom."

"We're related in name only," she said quickly. It was close enough to the truth. "Just happenstance we have the same last name."

"A rare happenstance. It's not a common name at all. But how would you describe this Director Sutcliff?"

Grell made a thoughtful noise. How would she describe the director? A lot of words came to mind, but none that a lady should utter.

As soon as her focus shifted inward, she ran into a pedestal. It rocked heavily and the vase it held toppled. Grell instinctively reached for it and only managed to trip over air. She hit the carpet with a rough cough, then rolled over and sat up. Sebastian had the vase in one hand and her food in the other. She sprung to her feet.

"You saved my cake!" Grell reached for it, but Sebastian leaned away, scowling at her as he returned the vase to its stand.

"Clearly I asked too much of you to be able to talk and walk at the same time, much less also carry something."

Grell reached for the plate again, but he pulled it close, as though withholding treats from a child. "Not until we're in my office."

She let out a huff and skulked behind him. It wasn't her fault she had to be like this. It was like walking around with blinders on.

"It's charlotte aux pomme with crème anglaise."

Grell paused in rubbing her wrist where she had scraped it along the carpet. "Eh?"

"It's not cake." He said it like she'd not only insulted his aesthetic, but kicked a kitten right in front of him as well.

Grell looked at the food on the plate. It too was cake, but she wasn't going to belabour the issue when he could easily stab her with some cutlery. "Well, it's very nice."

"Of course it is," Sebastian said as he opened the door for her. "What kind of butler would I be if I couldn't even make a charlotte aux pomme with crème anglaise?"

Grell paused on the threshold and turned to him. "How does anybody take you seriously, Sebastian?"

Sebastian pushed her into the room then sat down at his desk, leaving Grell to find a seat of her own. Butlers rarely entertained others on their own behalf, and the utilitarian office showed that. It was crowded with paperwork, money ledgers, and receipts or a few stored odds and ends, at odds with the earl's grandiose study.

Grell returned to the question at hand. "I'd say Director Sutcliff is a little like Undertaker, but without the sense of humour. She's very curious about the world. Aggressively so."

"Should I worry about coming across any of her wayward experiments?"

"It's too late for that. But no, she works strictly within the boundaries laid down by the head council. Unless she doesn't want to, but you didn't hear that from me." Grell looked down at her plate, warring internally with the urge to lick up the rest of the sauce and crumbs and the fact that Sebastian was right there, watching her. Begrudgingly, she set the plate on a table beside her. "So, you wanted to talk about employment?"

"I refuse to pay you," he said immediately to an 'is it really employment, then?' from Grell. "But you can't be seen simply faffing about, so there needs to be a reason for you to be here, even if I am not. We have already established you can't be a butler, and I don't need any more incompetent servants, nor private soldiers. What are you actually good at?"


	6. Chapter 6

My beta, Resistant Raisin, is back, so everything hereafter is my mistake. Still, comments and critique are much appreciated!

* * *

"Everyone," Sebastian announced to the servants gathered in the kitchen. They immediately snapped to attention. "Phantomhive servants should be knowledgeable in many subjects beyond how to kill a man, and while I have already laid down the foundation for most of you, I do not have the time nor the patience to go any further. So, Grell will be hired on as a home tutor."

Grell bowed low, mostly so she didn't have to see the looks passing over the others' faces or try to decipher how they were taking the news. Being nice to her when she was just visiting was one thing, but having to work with her again - she wasn't sure how they'd respond. She knew what her response had been when Sebastian decided on her 'job', and doubted theirs would be any more positive.

"I look forward to working with all of you, again or for the first time," she told the floor. While she had never actually taught anybody, it couldn't be much different from training a junior reaper. She thought she'd done a fair job on Ronnie, in as much as she'd been training him as opposed to they'd been paired for him to keep an eye on her.

Finny bounced over, dragging Snake and his sundry snakes with him, and immediately began telling Grell how he'd been teaching Snake how to read and what books they'd been working on. Snake looked like he wanted to slither away like his friends, especially when Mey-Rin jumped in to tell Grell all about the books _she_ 'd been reading. Hers were rather more colourful in their descriptions, and Grell made a mental note to sneak a few of them for herself.

"You told Grell about our... side jobs?" Bard asked.

The chatter immediately died, and Sebastian's face froze in wide-eyed realization. They hadn't actually discussed that at all, because Grell already knew, and he knew she knew.

Finny looked about to cry, and Mey-Rin scuffed her shoe guiltily. Bard was the only one not put out, though he was scowling in no particular direction. Grell would be the first to admit she was desensitized to death and in no place to judge, but she couldn't exactly say that to assuage any worry.

"I felt it best given that Grell will be working closely with you," Sebastian said finally. When none of them seemed swayed, he added, "While I can't ask her to involve herself in your activities, she has some medical knowledge as well, should anything happen to you. Grell knows, she isn't bothered by that information, nor should you be. Is that clear?"

Bard raised his hand.

Sebastian let out a long-suffering sigh. "Yes, Bard?"

"Why do you keep calling Grell she? You've been doing it a while now."

"Because Grell likes to be difficult. Any other questions?"

Bard looked like he wanted to press the issue, but Grell raised her own hand before he could. That was something she didn't feel like addressing now or ever to humans.

Sebastian glared, but Grell asked anyway, "How do you know I have medical knowledge? I never told you that."

"It came up over the course of the Jack the Ripper investigation. Do you want me to elaborate how?"

"No, that's fine," she said quickly. Sebastian had probably just put together the details of the murders, and realized Anne hadn't committed all of them personally. They had established a theme, and Grell couldn't bring herself to ruin a good theme, even if it had ultimately led to the end of her fun.

"I've got a question!"

"Of course you do, Finny. What is it?"

"Does Grell have anything we should know 'bout? Like, uh. Special? We won't judge, honest," he added, turning to Grell. She rather doubted that would be true if she did reveal her true self, chainsaw and all (and yes, her chainsaw was as much a part of her as her glasses). She knew she could be a little... overwhelming. Unsettling was the more common term. She'd let Sebastian field that question.

Sebastian stared at Grell, Grell stared right back with a polite, if vacant, smile. She hoped he'd just tell them about her so she didn't have to wear the disguise anymore. It really made more sense. If she was disguised like this, she was at a severe disadvantage should anything supernatural happened. She was at a disadvantage if anything natural happened, even. Grell was just at a disadvantage and wanted out of this skin at the earliest convenience. She projected those thoughts towards Sebastian, as though that alone would sway him.

"No."

* * *

"You don't have nothing else?" Bard asked after showing Grell to her room. Sebastian had gotten fed up with them all very quickly when more questions had been forthcoming and left to tend to the earl, leaving Bard to get Grell settled in.

"My friend is bringing my things," she said simply after depositing her small bag on the table. The room was spartan, without linens on the bed yet. Those were in Bard's arms. Grell had been surprised, but also relieved, when she'd not been put in the same room as Bard and Finny, but most of the servants quarters were empty, and, as Bard had explained, Finny didn't like being alone and he didn't mind sharing.

Bard sat in a chair and lit his cigarette as Grell took the sheets and began to make the bed. He produced an ashtray from his pocket and set it on the table.

His silence was conspicuous, and Grell could feel him watching her every move. It was strange, like being back in Director Sutcliff's manor, being studied as though she was a particularly unusual animal. Grell didn't like it.

"Is there something on your mind?" she asked as she smoothed down the sheets.

"You seem different."

"Different how?"

Bard shrugged. "I dunno. Happier? Or at least, less... whatever the hell you were before."

Grell focused on the sheets, hands running over their already flat surface. She wasn't happier, not really, but knew what he meant. The last time she'd been here she'd been nervous, suicidal (she'd been the only one at her hearings to find that joke funny), over-the-top and growing bored of her role as a butler when tastier prey had presented himself. Now she was too despondent about her new assignment to bother playing it up. Let him think she'd just matured.

"Life got a little dark after my madam's death, so I guess the only way to go was up. Things are a bit better now. I mean, I have a new job and all." Grell offered a small smile to really push the sincerity of her statement.

"What'd you do after she, y'know? Before you got hired here?"

A scream cut Grell off from having to answer and both immediately jumped to their feet. Bard was out the door first. Grell took a moment to snuff out the cigarette he'd dropped in his surprise before following. It wouldn't do to burn the house down. Again.

She ran into his back, almost knocking them both over, when he came to a halt in the kitchen doorway.

"The hell'd you do to Mey-Rin?" Bard asked, already reaching for a pan. Grell peeked around his shoulder.

Mey-Rin was slumped in the arms of a very confused Ronald Knox. Around them lay all of Grell's things from the office, pouring out of the box Ronald had dropped to catch her.

"Oh, wait, Bard! That's my friend!" she said when Bard moved forward to defend Mey-Rin. Grell slipped past him and over to the two. Gesturing for Ronald to let her down, Grell patted Mey-Rin on the cheek. "What happened, Ronald?"

"Senior Sutcliff? Is that you?" he asked uncertainly, looking her up and down. Though he didn't seem able to come to a decision about her new look, he finally said, "I came in to bring you your things, and she was here. Pretty girl and all, so I said hello, and she screamed then fainted. That doesn't usually happen to me - is she okay?"

"Can you see if you have my smelling salts in there, Ronnie? Miss Mey-Rin? Can you hear me?"

A small glass container was pressed into Grell's hand. Grell wafted them under Mey-Rin's nose until her eyes fluttered.

"Miss Mey-Rin, are you all right?"

"Oh, Mr Grell! I thought I saw a ghost! It was that dear boy from the Campania. You remember him, Mr Bard?"

"I do," Bard said, pan still held defensively in his hand, eyes on Ronald. "And he's no ghost, Mey-Rin."

Grell helped Mey-Rin up and over to a seat. "You didn't die on the Campania?" she asked Ronald.

"No, ma'am," he said, sidling forward. "It was a wild ride, but I came out fine. I'm real glad to run into you again, though. I believe I owe you a drink - maybe two, after giving you such a fright."

Bard slipped between the two and pressed the pan against Ronald's chest, forcing him to step back. "Hold up. Let her catch her breath before you start making moves on her."

"Bard's right. Come help me pick up my stuff, Ronald."

"No, no. He can look after me. I don't mind at all." Mey-Rin sat up straighter and pushed Bard aside. "Mr Grell said your name is Ronald, right?"

"You're sharp as you are pretty. Ronald Knox, at your service."

Grell left the two to their flirting - well, Ronald to his flirting, and Mey-Rin to her awkward glowing at the attention - and began to pick up her stuff. Still eyeing Ronald warily, Bard knelt down to help.

From forgotten office supplies to trinkets and clothing that had littered her desk and locker, the stuff strewn about the floor left a weight in her stomach to think she'd not be back there. She wasn't exiled from ever talking to the other reapers again, at least. But it'd be strange, being cut off from office gossip, in-jokes, even meetings. She'd been there for years and years, and had made herself a fixture as much as the office had become one in her own life. To have it so suddenly gone... She'd adapt, as she always did.

* * *

Eventually Grell broke Ronald and Mey-Rin apart so she could talk to him privately, under the story of sending him to her flat for more personal effects. It wasn't entirely false. She mostly lived at the office, especially as her free time was both sparse and strictly monitored now (well, then. This sudden freedom would take some getting used to as well), but Grell did need a few things from home to tide her over.

She pulled him outside, and he leaned in close to ask if she was all right. If that demon had done anything to her. He'd gestured at her entire person at that comment.

"I wish. It's called a disguise, Ronnie. Just play along," she whispered back. "They don't know anything about us or Sebastian, and think I'm just a home tutor who is shy, quiet, unassuming, and... this. Dammit, I can't believe you're wooing a human. Are you going to follow through on that?"

Ronald shrugged. "She is pretty cute. By the way, how's your Bassy? Gutted him like that madam of yours yet?"

Grell's face scrunched at having her own interspecies liaisons thrown in her face. "Fine. I hope she shoots you. Now shoo."

That left Mey-Rin to latch onto her, asking a hundred questions about Ronald. After finding out (without once asking) that Mey-Rin had never had a real romance before, Grell knew she would have to talk to Ronald about being careful with her. He was very casual about relationships, and Grell could do without the collateral damage if this went sour.

While she answered what she could without revealing that Ronald was a deathless being of supernatural origin who ultimately couldn't care about Mey-Rin the way she fantasized, Grell began nosing about for anything that might be luring the creatures to the manor. She'd have to tell Sebastian about the woman the birds had seen, but as soon as he was able to escape dealing with the servants, he'd all but vanished. Grell didn't think they were that bad so far as humans went, though Mey-Rin's excitement was already wearing a little thin. Grell wrinkled her nose at the small statuette in her hand, as though it held some blame. She had not signed on to play matchmaker.

She set the statuette down and tried to think what sort of books Ronald liked to read as she moved to examine another. Grell was fairly certain Ronald wouldn't touch a book to save his second life if it wasn't work related. Despite that he practically lived at her flat and she called him her friend, she didn't really know much about Ronald. She wasn't sure why that was, hadn't even really been aware of it until Mey-Rin started quizzing her. All she could do was shrug her shoulders and mumble something about nonfiction.

"Mey-Rin, there's washing to be done," Sebastian said as Grell was opening a small, ornate box in one of the forgotten parlours, causing both of them to shriek. With a blush that rivaled the one she'd had with Ronald, Mey-Rin scrambled away with a stuttered, 'yes, Mr Sebastian!'

Grell scowled, one hand over her fluttering heart. All these jumpy, nervous reactions were so foreign, but at the same time instinctual, to her human body. The fact that she could feel her heart beating at all was odd, like some small, fragile animal in her chest. "Do you enjoy scaring people?"

"Yes," Sebastian said. "You've certainly wormed your way into the household quickly. What are you doing?"

"Looking for anything that might be attracting the creatures. The Earl is really not utilizing his house well at all. Does he even know what are in most of these rooms?"

"Doubtful. But also unimportant. You are only here by virtue of your usefulness in this situation, so make yourself useful."

"I was. I was looking for - ugh, never mind. You become less attractive the more I get to know you," Grell groused. "But I do have something. Some ravens told me they saw a woman out in the forest during a recent rainstorm. Did anything happen then?"

"Ah. Some ravens told you. Of course."

"You have a boy who talks to snakes in your employ, Sebastian. I can talk to all sorts of animals. Birds, bees... cats." She let that last one trail away slowly as Sebastian's eyes widened. Grell grinned, tongue poking out from between her teeth. Given his fondness for cats, she could probably get a lot of use out of that particular skill. "But, the rain?" she prompted.

"Yes, there was a heavy storm. Given our location, it's not unusual. Nothing happened during it."

Grell walked over to the window and peered out. Everything outside was still wet and glistening, and likely to remain so for the near future, even with the sun in the sky. It couldn't burn away the mist, much less evaporate the puddles. "Let's not jump to any conclusions," she said. "She had to be here for some reason."

She felt Sebastian move and saw the red of his eyes in the window just above her. He was surprisingly cold, like a vacuum that sucked away what warmth she generated at this near distance.

"So you think it's useless to look for anything in the house?" Grell asked when he wasn't forthcoming with ideas.

"I think it's useless checking every box and paperweight. I'll see what new items have been brought in. You focus on that woman, and what she might have done."

Grell wrinkled her nose at that. Useless, again. Instead of agreeing to what she knew was a reasonable suggestion, she said, "When I'm able. I believe I have some servants to teach, first."

"Such a casual pace is unbefitting someone in the employ of the Phantomhive household."

Grell felt him take a step closer and turned around in what little space was left between them. Refusing to be put off by his lack of personal space as it was usually her doing the invading, she smoothed down his already perfect lapels. "It's a good thing I'm not actually employed here then, isn't it? We reapers move at our own pace."

Sebastian's arm wound around her, pulling her flush to him with a startled gasp, and his other hand caught her chin, tilting her head back to look her in the eye. "Is there some incentive to get you to move a little faster, Miss Sutcliff?"

Grell thanked God for her blunt teeth as she bit her tongue to stifle a laugh. If she didn't prefer him on the ground and covered in his own lovely blood, this tactic might have worked without a hiccough, but someone else being the aggressor sat oddly with her.

Her traitor of a human body had missed that memo, though, and easily responded to his attention.

He leaned in closer. "Perhaps something you want me to do to you?"

She forgot to breathe.

Yes, it absolutely was her body alone that was the traitor, and not all the dirty thoughts immediately crowding her mind. Thoughts that would put either or both of them out of commission if she acted on them. Grell could practically see Will's disappointment.

She shoved her hand between their lips before they could touch. "Do you have timetables for the servants? I need to figure out when I can teach them."

Sebastian pulled back like she'd thrown holy water into his face, and the chill around her diminished.

She began counting off on her fingers, further killing the mood. "And I'll need some workbooks, paper, pencils. A place to teach. Can you get all that for me?"

Grell wasn't sure what to make of the expression she got in response. She often found Sebastian hard to read when she was stalking him, like he was on the verge of some human emotion but hadn't quite figured out which one would be appropriate.

"You're genuinely going to try and teach them?"

"Yes? Wasn't that the cover?"

"You barely made an attempt at being a good butler before. I expected much the same of you now."

Grell shoved at Sebastian, who had the decency to step back despite that she couldn't get as much strength behind the action as she would have liked. "I tried! But there's so much to remember, and it wasn't my only job. You can't have sandwiches for every meal for some reason. People put leaves in water and drink it with one whitish crystal that's somehow completely different from another whitish crystal. Even the tableware has its own book of etiquette."

"You made no attempt to understand any of that in your time as Madam Red's butler?"

"No, because who cares?" Grell beat her fists against Sebastian's chest. Just the memory of trying to deal with all those nonsensical rules raised her ire. She slumped dramatically against him and sighed. "Why are there so many spoons, Bassy?"

"I have no idea."

Grell leaned back to look up at Sebastian, sure he was making fun of her in some way. "What?"

"I don't know why there are so many spoons. I know their history, their placement on a dinner table. I know the uses of each one and understand their individual shapes, but ultimately I don't know why humans need fourteen or more spoons for what amounts to the same purpose."

"Do you use silverware when you eat?"

"I eat what amounts to an abstract concept that I rip from the screaming bodies of my prey. No, I don't use silverware."

Grell leaned against Sebastian again, who made no move to push her away. "I mostly just make sandwiches for the office. Nobody has time for anything more." And now she wouldn't even be able to do that. Grell sighed, much less dramatically this time. "Spoons are useless."

"I agree." Suddenly Sebastian was stepping away, leaving Grell to catch herself before she fell over. "You said you needed supplies?"

"Um. Yes."

"I will put them together and arrange a time for you to tutor the servants. It will certainly not be today, however. So until then, do your job."

He left, and the room gained back a solidity that Grell hadn't noticed it had lost. She supposed Sebastian felt no need to hide his demonic nature when it was just the two of them, but was that how it presented itself? Like everything was a little colder, a little less real? She'd never had a chance to really study him every other time they were in close quarters, as it was usually because of a fight or they were doing their respective jobs.

Grell shrugged it off as best she could, though it lingered on her periphery like shadows. She ought to go find out what that woman was doing.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks so much to my beta, Resistant Raisin, for working through this and all my tech difficulties. All mistakes hereafter are 100% my fault.

* * *

As soon as she was safe to, Grell dropped her disguise and went invisible. Sebastian wouldn't like it, but she didn't particularly care to cater to his whims, and there was a lot of ground to cover since Grell had no idea what she was looking for. Up and down the manor grounds, looking out from atop the house's spires to where the property disappeared into a forested haze. It felt like nothing existed beyond the estate.

Grell soon got bored of the boundless nothing she was coming up with and found herself following Sebastian. So long as Grell was careful, she could slip right past his notice despite practically stepping on his heels. Reapers were basically non-entities to his kind, claimed souls that demons could only destroy, not devour, and hardly worth the effort and repercussions to do so. As a result, Sebastian barely knew what to look for if he suspected a reaper was about, and as Grell wasn't _supposed_ to be about, he was completely unawares. She used that to her advantage.

She danced around him, almost close enough to touch, ducking under his arms as he lifted a tray, sidling up close to match his bend as he poured tea for the earl. How easily Grell could just cut him down, and he'd have no time to respond.

"What is it, young master?"

"What the hell are you doing, you ginger freak?"

Grell froze, wandering finger inches from Sebastian's rear, then jerked back. Ciel followed her movements easily. Sebastian's gaze was more unfocused, only looking in the general direction of Grell, not at her. It'd only be a few seconds before he figured out where she was.

She made it almost to the window before his fingers were in her hair, yanking her back. The edge of the desk caught on her hip and she toppled to the floor.

"Is this how you investigate?" Sebastian asked as he loomed over her. The tea pot still in his hand would have ruined the menace if it was any other person.

"I couldn't find anything, and you looked so devilishly handsome in your obliviousness, I just - Ouch!" Grell cradled her cheek where Sebastian had hit, cowering away preemptively from any other blows. "Why are you so mean to me?"

"I'm mean to anyone not doing their job."

"No wonder everyone's bad at their jobs, then. Jesus. What sort of motivation is that?" She cringed when it looked like he was going to hit her again, but a sudden word from Ciel and he stopped.

"Young master?"

"Give me my tea, help Grell up, and don't repremand the servants in my, or any one else's, presence again."

"Of course, young master." Sebastian gave a stiff bow and went to return the tea pot to its tray.

While Sebastian was busy, Grell peeked over the edge of the table at Ciel because that had sounded almost like he was siding with her. His brows were slightly furrowed, visible eye gazing at his desk, like he was as confused as her at the statement.

Before Grell could test this possible alliance, Sebastian caught her under her elbow and hefted her to her feet. He then tidied her up, rather more roughly than he needed to. She could practically feel the desire to strangle her when he straightened her neck bow.

Grell returned to the window.

"You're supposed to be in your hu-"

She blew a kiss and rolled out the window before Sebastian could finish his sentence.

* * *

After that little incident, Grell was more careful to work at least some of the time in her human guise where Sebastian could see. That meant she often found herself paired with Finny or Mey-Rin when searching the grounds or house, and both were doggedly invested in befriending her for some reason. It made it hard to poke around without suspicion. Sebastian would just have to forgive her for returning to her normal form as often as she still did. He was the one who wanted this to stay hush-hush, after all. At least they were enthusiastic with their studies, she supposed, so she could distract them with talk of that instead of herself.

Over the next few days, Grell found only a lot of rainwater and fog. It was frustrating, because this was her element - out in the field, the wind in her hair, the thrill of the unknown. This was what Grell was good at, not that her current lack of answers would suggest it.

Though she didn't know quite what to do, Grell found it easiest to at least pretend to be doing something. She had information, which made it worse, but it was all disparate. As though a linchpin was missing, nothing quite fit together, leaving her with a tangled mess of useless details that should make sense but just didn't. Whatever the director had said wouldn't placate Sebastian forever if he wasn't getting any results. It wouldn't placate the director, either, if Grell couldn't find out _anything_ , oceanic or demonic.

On a morning as dreary, hazy, and unproductive as the rest, Grell paused in the kitchen doorway to wipe her glasses clean of dewed fog before ghosting by Bard. He shuddered hard enough to drop the eggs he'd been washing. Grell yelped and jumped away from the gooey mess, then had to smother a laugh as Bard cast about for whatever had spooked him, looking right through her with a witless expression of befuddlement.

Though it gave her a bit of a thrill, being this close and unseen, mortality was such an inconvenience. Lingering so close to living beings as she was doing put them on edge and wore them down after too long. She wasn't truly invisible to humans, death being as closely tied to life as it was, though they never quite knew what to make of the sensations reapers aroused. Ghosts, poltergeists (if a reaper was feeling particularly mischievious), the sensation of being watched itching between the shoulder blades. She'd have to be more careful in the future, lest things turn out like they had for poor Anne. Grell couldn't deny she'd probably been at least a _little_ responsible for her madam's decline toward the end there. Three years with death at one's shoulder would wear anyone down.

She'd rather not see a repeat, so Grell stepped out of the kitchen and into a storage closet to change before returning to the kitchen. "What happened, Mr Bard?" she asked, running over to help, playing the part of innocent bystander.

"Just got a shudder. Wind must'a blown through. The weather's been strange as of late."

"What do you mean?" Grell asked as she pulled down another towel to sop up the egg mess. "I'm afraid I'm not too used to country weather."

"It's just something in the air's not right. It reminds me of - nah, it's stupid. It's just my imagination. England's got weird weather. I guess I've just never gotten used to it."

Grell mopped idly at some running yolk. This was her world as much as it was Sebastian's, anymore. Neither really experienced it quite like humans did. Grell realized Bard was staring at her again, face thoughtful. Maybe she shouldn't have returned to the scene of the crime so quickly, though she doubted he suspected anything about her. How could he even begin to fathom what she was?

"I'm sure it's not stupid," she said to distract him, standing and handing over the dirty towel for Bard to toss into the wash basket. "Isn't it best to listen to your instincts? Maybe talking about it'll help."

"I guess... I need more eggs, so -"

"Oh, I'll come with you."

Bard held the door for Grell, who ducked past him back into the chill. It was actually cold, now that she had human skin, and she shivered.

"I'm a military man," Bard said as they walked, looking far less bothered by the air than Grell. "Have been for most of my life. I joined the army when I was 14 - lied on my papers, but they were taking anyone. God." He rubbed his hair with one hand. "You probably weren't even born then, but I fought in the civil war back home. Union blue. Then it was off to fight the Indians in the South West."

Grell nodded absently as chickens tottered over to peck at her in search of food, then bent down to pet the friendly birds.

She along with every other reaper available worked with the Native and newly formed United States of America offices during the integration, so while she didn't know if their lives ever overlapped, she knew generally about what he spoke of. Grell had seen some very strange things there, and overtaxed didn't begin to describe the reapers, what with the swaths of death being painted across the newly formed United States landscape. War wasn't really her thing, nor were large-scale massacres or government-sanctioned and funded murders. But what was hers to just brush off was Bard's life. His eyes were absent as he curled his apron to hold eggs. Grell wondered if he'd ever done anything he regretted.

And she had no clue what that had to do with the weather.

"Fighting your own people is different from fighting others. We knew how the Confederates thought, but the natives? We had more firepower, but they knew the land better than us. Every shadow, every rustle, every narrow passage coulda been death. We were the outsiders there, and we knew it. This feels kind of like that."

"You're talking about those people in the forest? They haven't shown themselves for weeks, I thought. And they didn't really seem coherent enough to stage ambushes."

"It's... it's not about the people." Bard grasped vaguely for what he was trying to say with one hand while the other hunted for more eggs. "It's the air. Like we're not in our own territory now. We don't know what to expect. It's hard to explain unless you've felt it before."

"Oh," Grell said. She thought she knew what he meant. She had felt it with Sebastian in the study, and she felt it mildly every day. Her entire existence, not really human and not quite a normal reaper, put her at odds with everywhere, so she would have no clue when it was happening to others as well. But how could she describe it to Bard?

She shooed away the chickens and straightened. "I somewhat see what you mean. Like... the furniture in a room's been moved just a little off-centre."

At the lack of response, she glanced over to Bard. He was staring at her again but then seemed to realize she expected a reply.

"Yeah! It's still the same room, but not. Kinda like that."

Bard led them back inside, where he this time put the eggs away without incident and began to prepare some meal. Grell lingered out of his way, mulling over what he had said. That counted as information, she supposed. If she could just word it properly to make it seem like it meant something. Maybe she could find out more about this change in the air, now that she knew it was there.

Grell screamed at the sudden stream of flame that leapt across the kitchen and threw herself against the wall. She wasn't even aware of exactly what had happened, but her body knew that she was now very, very flammable compared to reapers.

"Oh, shit! Sorry, Grell." The flames immediately died down, leaving Grell blinking away the spots in her eyes. "I forgot you're not used to my, ah, cooking style."

She refused to leave her spot or approach Bard, who had goggles pulled up over his hair, a fuel tank strapped to his back, and one very tiny, very threatening flame sputtering at the tip of a nozzle. "What the hell are you making?"

Bard's eyebrows rose at her language. "Scrambled eggs," he said.

* * *

Ciel looked at the covered dish like he knew it hid an explosive. From what Grell had just learnt, there might have been an incident where it did. Sebastian certainly looked ready to shield his lord the instant the cover was lifted.

Bard presented the meal with a wide grin, one hand supporting the platter, the other on the handle, ready to remove it with a dramatic flourish. Grell stood behind him, rubbing her shoulder where she'd thrown herself at the wall. Her jacket was somewhere still in the kitchen, her sleeves were rolled up for all the good it had done, and both she and Bard looked a mess of ingredients and singe marks.

Bard removed the cover. "Ta-da!"

Ciel cringed back, then caught himself once he actually saw what was being presented. "Oh. That looks... Passable."

Bard beamed as he slid the plates onto the table in front of the earl. A yellow omelette was folded over chives, mushrooms, and tomatoes, and beside it sat two slices of ham and buttered toast. Grell had managed to talk him out of presenting an egg sandwich and calling it done and added a small jar of preserves to the side. She'd heard enough from Anne complaining about Ciel's dietary habits to know that a completely sugarless meal would not pass the bar.

"Go on, young master!" Bard said, inching the plate closer when Ciel made no move to lift his fork. "Dig in."

Grell sidled over to Sebastian. "I made sure all the egg shells were removed before he cooked it," she whispered.

"Ah," he said. "Perhaps the young master would be so kind as to sample his chef's hard work?"

Ciel glared at Sebastian, and while he was looking in their direction Grell gestured for him to hurry up and eat something. Bard's smile was flickering, and they had worked too damn hard for the brat to be a, well, brat.

With a sigh of resignation, Ciel picked up his fork and cut off a tiny piece of the omelette. He chewed it.

"It's not bad," he said finally, then took another bite. "Yes, this is fine. You're excused, Bard."

Bard visibly relaxed before giving a lazy salute and disappearing.

Grell watched Ciel, waiting for him to push the food away as soon as Bard was out of sight. To her surprise, he continued eating.

"Would you like me to prepare a more suitable dish for you, my lord?" Sebastian offered.

"No. I said this is fine, didn't I?" Ciel said sharply. "Your food's too rich sometimes, Sebastian. But you can spread my preserves for me." He pushed the small plate of toast toward Sebastian.

"I might have some information for you," she told him as he worked. "But I need to pop out a bit to check something."

"Of course. Do what you need."

"Will do! Bye!" Grell waved and ran out of the room before Sebastian could reconsider his wording.

She crashed into Bard in the hallway.

"Well?" he asked impatiently, catching Grell before she could fall over.

"He liked it," she assured him. "Sebastian offered to make a different meal, but he turned him down."

"Haha! Yes!" Bard pumped the air, then covered his mouth. He wasn't exactly being quiet.

Grell couldn't help but smile at how excited Bard was. He was practically humming as they returned to the kitchen. It was almost endearing seeing a grown man so pleased that someone ate his food. And all they'd had to do was follow the recipe.

Suddenly, Bard turned around and hugged Grell. She was stiff in his arms, not sure what brought this about nor how to react. He smelled like tobacco smoke and some underlying, heavy scent she found hard to identify.

"Thanks so much, Grell," Bard said. "I know I'm not here for my cooking, but I do take pride in my job. I'm a chef, and I hate that I'm not actually able to cook for the young master."

She wasn't sure what to say to that. "It's not your fault," she tried. "Sebastian's just not a very good teacher."

With a huff of laughter, Bard let her go. "Damn right about that. He just does everything himself. You're much better."

Grell patted his hand instead of saying anything either way to that particular observation, then pulled out her pocket watch. There was time aplenty before she had to tutor the others. "I have to go check something for Sebastian, but maybe when I'm done, we can make a small meal for the other servants to eat after their lessons."

"Is it anything I can help with?"

"No, thank you. If there is anything, I'll let you know."

Grell hunted down her jacket and beat the flour off of it - curious, since nothing they made that morning had required flour - and left Bard to clean up the mess in the kitchen. First, she needed the earl's bedroom. Then, she'd have to find Snake's snakes.

* * *

"Pretty birdies," Grell sang out to the forest. It had been unnerving enough the first time, so she was disinclined to go further than the treeline as a reaper or a human. Just remembering what Bard had said when she'd first arrived sent a shiver down her spine. They could still be there, waiting in the twilight of the forest for some idiot reaper to wander her way back to them. "I've got something for you if you tell me some stories! And don't worry, no snakes will be coming by this time."

That last sentence was enough to get at least one bird's attention. A raven fluttered down from the shadows of the trees and tilted its head at her, then hopped forward a few steps. Grell reached into her basket and pulled out a button to offer like a treat. It came closer, snatched the button away and disappeared into the trees.

Another raven descended, and another, and soon Grell had an entire unkindness sitting in front of her, cawing at her.

"We didn't recognize you, reaper!" they told her as she handed each a button. Grell had made sure to have plenty of shiny things to give them. "We forget what little things like you look like."

"I didn't forget you," Grell told them, far more amiable now that they were meeting on her terms. She knelt down and set the basket in front of her. Several ravens crowded close to pick through the assorted ribbons, buttons, and broaches within. "You were very helpful before... I think. And I need your help again."

"Yes, yes, what is it?"

"You've lived here longer than I have, so has anything changed here? Anything that makes it different from nearby places?"

The birds began to ruminate between themselves, occasionally fighting over a bit of string or fluffing up and bouncing away from each other, and Grell waited as patiently as she knew how for them to come to some sort of consensus. If they didn't answer her soon, she was considering fighting them for the things they'd already taken. She didn't believe in handouts, especially not to birds.

"The air is thick," they said before she could make good on that train of thought. "It crusts our trees. Come see, come see." Several began to move toward the forest, and Grell grimaced.

"Can't you just tell me?" she asked.

"No, no. Come see. Stay little with dull eyes. It's safe. Safe."

Grell watched as they began to move into the forest without her, still calling for her to follow. The forest really was the only place left, loathe as she was to acknowledge that. With a sigh she knocked a raven off of her basket and hefted it up. The raven squawked and beat her with its wings until it felt she'd had enough, then darted away into the trees.

Grell blew a feather out of her face. "This had better be worth it."


End file.
